There are several versions of this story.
1) Juno Day is two friends from college--Chris McKenna and Zac Halbrook--who have been making music together since 2006.
2) The current lineup of Juno Day is:
1) Juno Day is two friends from college--Chris McKenna and Zac Halbrook--who have been making music together since 2006.
2) The current lineup of Juno Day is:
- Zac Halbrook - piano, keys, vocals
- Tom Hughes - bass
- Mike Mahoney - drums, percussion
- Chris McKenna - guitars, vocals
3) Juno Day was born on a winding, naranja-filled street in Seville, Spain. The date was May 1, 2007. It was a Tuesday. Chris and Zac were walking back from the centro, en route to Ana's apartment on Calle Enladrillada. They reminisced about Antonio, The Cranberries, and their nascent dream of making music together. That's when the Universe spoke, and Chris wrote it down in a Five Star notebook.
4) Juno Day is a Philadelphia/Washington, D.C.-based musical collaboration between Chris McKenna and Zac Halbrook. The two met in college at Penn State in 2004 and played in several incarnations of a cover band before starting Juno Day in 2008. After college, the two split up in 2009. Chris moved home to Philadelphia and then eventually to New York City, while Zac moved home to the Washington, D.C. area. In New York, Chris played guitar in two bands, worked various odd jobs, and changed apartments six times in 14 months before running out of money and moving back home to Philadelphia. Zac got a job with a consulting firm doing large projects with the government. He still works there. Chris recently left his job as a 9th grade Algebra 1 at a high school in North Philadelphia, where he taught for two years.
5) Juno Day is aspiring cave painters with Mike Mahoney, warrior poet and Universal human soul evangelist.
6) Juno Day is the secret workings of the Universe in its ever-evolving attempt at becoming more conscious of itself and the nature of its existence.
7) Juno Day is The Human Empire.
8) Juno Day is, "We occupy a quarter of a second in the month of June."
9) Juno Day is impermanence.
10) Juno Day is this setlist from Chris and Zac's first gig together, on April 7, 2006:
Pi Kappa Phi Fraternity, Penn State University, State College, PA
Who Did You Think I Was?, The Distance, Hate It Or Love It > Still D.R.E. > Hate It Or Love It > Pure Imagination, Mo Money Mo Problems, Love Generation > Send Me On My Way, Afternoon Delight (a cappella), Wrong Way, Scotty Doesn’t Know, Baba O’Riley, Mary Jane’s Last Dance, No Woman No Cry, Better Man, Zombie Nation, Don’t Stop Believin’, Ants Marching, Rock ‘n Roll Part 2 > American Girl, Shout, You Enjoy Myself jam
Show notes: First gig. All songs were covers and the band has no name at this point, nor were we paid. Pi Kapp hosted KDR’s annual, all-day spring party called “The Meatball”. We were supposed to start playing outside at 4:30, but Pi Kapp’s house band decided they wanted to play then, and by the time they were done their set the cops had showed up and threatened to shut down the party “if another song was played outside.” Consequently, we didn’t start playing until 7:00 PM, and we had to set up in Pi Kapp’s basement. “Slick Rick” Steinberg and Chris “Diddy” Perrini made special guest appearances for Hate It Or Love It, Still D.R.E., and Mo Money Mo Problems. Santo forgot the lyrics to most of the songs. During YEM, Mike couldn’t keep a beat and got up from behind the drums and left, only to be yelled at by me and consequently return to playing. By all accounts, this was a very sloppy debut.
-Chris, April 14, 2006
11) How does this story end?
Hopefully as friends making meaningful music together, connecting with others, and enjoying the process.
12) Let's start at the beginning.
Zac and I met during my first week at Penn State as a freshman in 2004. I was playing guitar with a friend in the Simmons Hall piano lounge on the first floor of my dorm, and he walked by en route to dinner. He didn't stop in--years later, he would tell me it was because he was scared--but instead kept walking to the cafeteria, resolving that if we were still there when he was done with dinner, he would sit down and play piano. I'm not sure if that means anything, but that's what happened. As it turns out, we were still there when he came back up the stairs from the basement cafeteria, and he asked if he could sit down on the piano.
The initial jam is mysterious to me. I have memories of being in the room--of my Martin guitar, which was a high school graduation gift from my grandparents, and of my new friend, Frank, with whom I was "jamming"--and I remember there being a guy who came in and sat down on the piano...but I don't actually have a clear visual picture of what he looked like, or what his voice sounded like...I don't remember any of that. What I do remember is that he came in, played some chords that I found to be interesting, and then we found out that we both really liked Pat Metheny. I thought this was pretty cool. No one I hung out with knew who Pat Metheny was. Only my dad knew who Metheny was. But this guy busts out the chords from "First Circle" and I was like, "Woa." I really couldn't believe it. I remember being pretty excited. I mean, I was 18 years old, had just started college, infinite possibilities ahead, and I love music--in the first few days of being there, I'm meeting a guy who not only knows who Pat Metheny is but can already play his songs. I can't say for sure, but knowing myself, I probably started thinking about the perfect future we would have together as band soulmates and all the grandiose visions of us as rockstars on multiple world tours just generally being awesome and lauded by pretty much everyone in the universe. Zac was good at piano. I thought I was pretty good at guitar. "We're going to be famous!" is probably what I was thinking, although I'm sure most of the excitement was genuinely around the idea of playing music with someone I connected with. I thought it was so cool. I was also 18 years old. I also had never been in a band before. (Neither had Zac, I would find out.) I also had never studied music. (Neither had Zac, I would also find out.) But I knew that what this guy was playing on the piano was pretty good, we both liked Pat Metheny, and that was enough for me. I asked him if he wanted to play something I had written--my as yet unfinished magnum opus, "Tarifa"--and so we jammed on that for a bit. Then, still brimming with excitement and smiling ear to ear, we shook hands and agreed that we would "definitely" get together again in the piano lounge sometime really soon.
And then we didn't see each other again for another 16 months...literally 16 months, until halfway through my sophomore year. We hadn't exchanged information, and this was early days of Facebook...I didn't think to go "find" him. Plus, all I knew was that his name was "Zach" (I definitely would have added the "h"). Our paths simply didn't cross again. Penn State is a big school.
I was also swept up into some other things during that time. Shortly after our initial jam, I reneged on my initial assertion that I would "never do a frat" and--perhaps not surprisingly--joined the fraternity where several guys from high school with whom I had played lacrosse were already members. Peer pressure is a bitch. I then disappeared into a hole (not literally, although this was the unfortunate fate of some of my pledge brothers), and, more than a year later, I was fully immersed in Greek Life at Penn State--"socials," nightly black-outs, hanging out with the same people at the same party doing the same thing on the same night each week for an entire semester, etc. One day, in early December 2005, just days after finding out that our fraternity would be shut down and all of us evicted due to an unfortunate hazing incident, I was playing guitar in my bedroom, and some girls from a sorority with whom we were very close came over to hang out. I had been hanging with these girls for over a year now, but I guess after a year of knowing each other, we still only knew each other superficially well. One of the girls--Loni--was listening to me play guitar and said, "You know, my boyfriend plays piano and he's really good...you guys should play together." When I asked what his name was and she told me, I immediately time traveled back to the almost-forgotten jam in the Simmons Hall piano lounge during my first week of college and told her, "I think I already know him." This is another one of those moments where I don't totally recollect how it all happened, who was in the room, what anyone was wearing, what time it was, etc...but I remember smiling one of those "what a strange coincidence" smiles and telling her to put us in touch.
As it turns out, a couple days before Loni told me her boyfriend played piano, I had unknowingly signed a lease for the next semester in an apartment only one floor above Zac, in Beaver Hill Apartments. To put this in perspective, Penn State is a school of about 40,000 students with dozens of dormitories and dozens upon dozens up large, off-campus apartment complexes and houses for miles surrounding the campus. I'm not saying this means anything, but I do find it be an interesting coincidence.
Over winter break, Zac and I touched base via email. I suspect the tone was formal, geeky, and awkward. When we got together, in January of 2006, I remember it being like an awkward first date. "So...what do you want to play?" I think we ended up playing Dave Matthews, Phish, and Steely Dan covers, in addition to a few original ideas. That's how the first few sessions went. I would walk downstairs with my acoustic guitar, Zac would turn on his keyboard, and we would jam.
After about two weeks of getting together, I decided if we were going to get serious and start a band, I needed to get my electric guitar--an Epiphone Les Paul--back in working order. (It had been neglected for a few years, as I had been playing acoustic guitar almost exclusively.) The day I got it back from the shop, I plugged in and did my best Trey Anastasio impression for many hours. It was a Thursday, which, at that point in my life, normally meant I would be getting blacked out with my frat bros and going out, but on this particular Thursday, I decided to stay in and continue playing my guitar. I suppose I was feeling inspired.
It was many years ago now, but sometime around 9:00 PM, I heard a knock upon my door. I went and answered the door and found a large, pasty, white guy with curly hair and dorky glasses wearing an oversized t-shirt and baggy cargo shorts. "Yo," he said. "I heard you playing guitar. I play bass. Do you wanna jam?"
"Yeah, man," I replied.
The pieces were coming together. I had just met Tom Hughes, who would become our bass player through all of college, and the bassist for our first full-length album, Chauvet.
As it turns out, Tom also lived on the first floor of Beaver Hill. That night, the washers on the first floor were full, so Tom had to do his wash on the second floor. He was taking his clothes out of the dryer when he heard me playing electric guitar from down the hall and decided to investigate.
When he came back with his bass, the first song we started playing was "Gotta Jibboo" by Phish, my favorite band for many years and the musical love of my life. Tom was a skilled player. It was a serendipitous encounter.
Tom lived in apartment #115. Zac lived in #116. Somehow, by the layout of the building, these two rooms, though numerically in sequence, were on complete opposite ends of the building, on different wings entirely. I'm not sure if this means anything either. Nonetheless, the next jam in 116 featured a trio and not just a duo. We were getting closer to starting a band, but we still needed a drummer and a singer. (Neither Zac nor I considered ourselves to be singers at this point.)
On drums, I enlisted a guy from my high school who had also pledged my frat and was a year younger. He owned a drum set and was willing to bring it back to school after spring break, which was critical. I also found out that a guy I had been friends with for months was also a singer, formerly in the Philadelphia Boys Choir. Coincidentally, he also lived on the first floor of Beaver Hill. I told him about the project and he was interested.
This was late March, 2006, and there were about six weeks left in the semester. I set what I thought was a reasonable goal: play one gig at a frat party and one gig at a bar before the end of the semester. That week, I asked the guys at Pi Kappa Phi if we could play one of their parties, and they said yes. They were hosting "The Meatball"--an annual day-long shitfest during Greek Week normally hosted by KDR, but they were on double secret probation. The party was on Friday, April 7--a little less than two weeks away. Of course, we had yet to rehearse as a full band and had no songs in our repertoire.
Naturally, I wrote up a ridiculous two-hour setlist with 30 songs in the set.
With 12 days until the gig, we began rehearsing. Since we couldn't exactly host a full-band rehearsal in our apartment building, I decided to break into Delta Sig, my fraternity, which was unoccupied that semester due to our hazing indictment and consequent eviction. Scaling the front wall of the house, I was able to hop onto the portico, where I used a step ladder to reach a 3rd floor bedroom window, open it, and walk downstairs to open the back door. We set up our gear in the basement and played as loud as we wanted. It was an awesome feeling to be playing with other musicians--to be playing in a band, with a tangible mission: play at a party.
5) Juno Day is aspiring cave painters with Mike Mahoney, warrior poet and Universal human soul evangelist.
6) Juno Day is the secret workings of the Universe in its ever-evolving attempt at becoming more conscious of itself and the nature of its existence.
7) Juno Day is The Human Empire.
8) Juno Day is, "We occupy a quarter of a second in the month of June."
9) Juno Day is impermanence.
10) Juno Day is this setlist from Chris and Zac's first gig together, on April 7, 2006:
Pi Kappa Phi Fraternity, Penn State University, State College, PA
Who Did You Think I Was?, The Distance, Hate It Or Love It > Still D.R.E. > Hate It Or Love It > Pure Imagination, Mo Money Mo Problems, Love Generation > Send Me On My Way, Afternoon Delight (a cappella), Wrong Way, Scotty Doesn’t Know, Baba O’Riley, Mary Jane’s Last Dance, No Woman No Cry, Better Man, Zombie Nation, Don’t Stop Believin’, Ants Marching, Rock ‘n Roll Part 2 > American Girl, Shout, You Enjoy Myself jam
Show notes: First gig. All songs were covers and the band has no name at this point, nor were we paid. Pi Kapp hosted KDR’s annual, all-day spring party called “The Meatball”. We were supposed to start playing outside at 4:30, but Pi Kapp’s house band decided they wanted to play then, and by the time they were done their set the cops had showed up and threatened to shut down the party “if another song was played outside.” Consequently, we didn’t start playing until 7:00 PM, and we had to set up in Pi Kapp’s basement. “Slick Rick” Steinberg and Chris “Diddy” Perrini made special guest appearances for Hate It Or Love It, Still D.R.E., and Mo Money Mo Problems. Santo forgot the lyrics to most of the songs. During YEM, Mike couldn’t keep a beat and got up from behind the drums and left, only to be yelled at by me and consequently return to playing. By all accounts, this was a very sloppy debut.
-Chris, April 14, 2006
11) How does this story end?
Hopefully as friends making meaningful music together, connecting with others, and enjoying the process.
12) Let's start at the beginning.
Zac and I met during my first week at Penn State as a freshman in 2004. I was playing guitar with a friend in the Simmons Hall piano lounge on the first floor of my dorm, and he walked by en route to dinner. He didn't stop in--years later, he would tell me it was because he was scared--but instead kept walking to the cafeteria, resolving that if we were still there when he was done with dinner, he would sit down and play piano. I'm not sure if that means anything, but that's what happened. As it turns out, we were still there when he came back up the stairs from the basement cafeteria, and he asked if he could sit down on the piano.
The initial jam is mysterious to me. I have memories of being in the room--of my Martin guitar, which was a high school graduation gift from my grandparents, and of my new friend, Frank, with whom I was "jamming"--and I remember there being a guy who came in and sat down on the piano...but I don't actually have a clear visual picture of what he looked like, or what his voice sounded like...I don't remember any of that. What I do remember is that he came in, played some chords that I found to be interesting, and then we found out that we both really liked Pat Metheny. I thought this was pretty cool. No one I hung out with knew who Pat Metheny was. Only my dad knew who Metheny was. But this guy busts out the chords from "First Circle" and I was like, "Woa." I really couldn't believe it. I remember being pretty excited. I mean, I was 18 years old, had just started college, infinite possibilities ahead, and I love music--in the first few days of being there, I'm meeting a guy who not only knows who Pat Metheny is but can already play his songs. I can't say for sure, but knowing myself, I probably started thinking about the perfect future we would have together as band soulmates and all the grandiose visions of us as rockstars on multiple world tours just generally being awesome and lauded by pretty much everyone in the universe. Zac was good at piano. I thought I was pretty good at guitar. "We're going to be famous!" is probably what I was thinking, although I'm sure most of the excitement was genuinely around the idea of playing music with someone I connected with. I thought it was so cool. I was also 18 years old. I also had never been in a band before. (Neither had Zac, I would find out.) I also had never studied music. (Neither had Zac, I would also find out.) But I knew that what this guy was playing on the piano was pretty good, we both liked Pat Metheny, and that was enough for me. I asked him if he wanted to play something I had written--my as yet unfinished magnum opus, "Tarifa"--and so we jammed on that for a bit. Then, still brimming with excitement and smiling ear to ear, we shook hands and agreed that we would "definitely" get together again in the piano lounge sometime really soon.
And then we didn't see each other again for another 16 months...literally 16 months, until halfway through my sophomore year. We hadn't exchanged information, and this was early days of Facebook...I didn't think to go "find" him. Plus, all I knew was that his name was "Zach" (I definitely would have added the "h"). Our paths simply didn't cross again. Penn State is a big school.
I was also swept up into some other things during that time. Shortly after our initial jam, I reneged on my initial assertion that I would "never do a frat" and--perhaps not surprisingly--joined the fraternity where several guys from high school with whom I had played lacrosse were already members. Peer pressure is a bitch. I then disappeared into a hole (not literally, although this was the unfortunate fate of some of my pledge brothers), and, more than a year later, I was fully immersed in Greek Life at Penn State--"socials," nightly black-outs, hanging out with the same people at the same party doing the same thing on the same night each week for an entire semester, etc. One day, in early December 2005, just days after finding out that our fraternity would be shut down and all of us evicted due to an unfortunate hazing incident, I was playing guitar in my bedroom, and some girls from a sorority with whom we were very close came over to hang out. I had been hanging with these girls for over a year now, but I guess after a year of knowing each other, we still only knew each other superficially well. One of the girls--Loni--was listening to me play guitar and said, "You know, my boyfriend plays piano and he's really good...you guys should play together." When I asked what his name was and she told me, I immediately time traveled back to the almost-forgotten jam in the Simmons Hall piano lounge during my first week of college and told her, "I think I already know him." This is another one of those moments where I don't totally recollect how it all happened, who was in the room, what anyone was wearing, what time it was, etc...but I remember smiling one of those "what a strange coincidence" smiles and telling her to put us in touch.
As it turns out, a couple days before Loni told me her boyfriend played piano, I had unknowingly signed a lease for the next semester in an apartment only one floor above Zac, in Beaver Hill Apartments. To put this in perspective, Penn State is a school of about 40,000 students with dozens of dormitories and dozens upon dozens up large, off-campus apartment complexes and houses for miles surrounding the campus. I'm not saying this means anything, but I do find it be an interesting coincidence.
Over winter break, Zac and I touched base via email. I suspect the tone was formal, geeky, and awkward. When we got together, in January of 2006, I remember it being like an awkward first date. "So...what do you want to play?" I think we ended up playing Dave Matthews, Phish, and Steely Dan covers, in addition to a few original ideas. That's how the first few sessions went. I would walk downstairs with my acoustic guitar, Zac would turn on his keyboard, and we would jam.
After about two weeks of getting together, I decided if we were going to get serious and start a band, I needed to get my electric guitar--an Epiphone Les Paul--back in working order. (It had been neglected for a few years, as I had been playing acoustic guitar almost exclusively.) The day I got it back from the shop, I plugged in and did my best Trey Anastasio impression for many hours. It was a Thursday, which, at that point in my life, normally meant I would be getting blacked out with my frat bros and going out, but on this particular Thursday, I decided to stay in and continue playing my guitar. I suppose I was feeling inspired.
It was many years ago now, but sometime around 9:00 PM, I heard a knock upon my door. I went and answered the door and found a large, pasty, white guy with curly hair and dorky glasses wearing an oversized t-shirt and baggy cargo shorts. "Yo," he said. "I heard you playing guitar. I play bass. Do you wanna jam?"
"Yeah, man," I replied.
The pieces were coming together. I had just met Tom Hughes, who would become our bass player through all of college, and the bassist for our first full-length album, Chauvet.
As it turns out, Tom also lived on the first floor of Beaver Hill. That night, the washers on the first floor were full, so Tom had to do his wash on the second floor. He was taking his clothes out of the dryer when he heard me playing electric guitar from down the hall and decided to investigate.
When he came back with his bass, the first song we started playing was "Gotta Jibboo" by Phish, my favorite band for many years and the musical love of my life. Tom was a skilled player. It was a serendipitous encounter.
Tom lived in apartment #115. Zac lived in #116. Somehow, by the layout of the building, these two rooms, though numerically in sequence, were on complete opposite ends of the building, on different wings entirely. I'm not sure if this means anything either. Nonetheless, the next jam in 116 featured a trio and not just a duo. We were getting closer to starting a band, but we still needed a drummer and a singer. (Neither Zac nor I considered ourselves to be singers at this point.)
On drums, I enlisted a guy from my high school who had also pledged my frat and was a year younger. He owned a drum set and was willing to bring it back to school after spring break, which was critical. I also found out that a guy I had been friends with for months was also a singer, formerly in the Philadelphia Boys Choir. Coincidentally, he also lived on the first floor of Beaver Hill. I told him about the project and he was interested.
This was late March, 2006, and there were about six weeks left in the semester. I set what I thought was a reasonable goal: play one gig at a frat party and one gig at a bar before the end of the semester. That week, I asked the guys at Pi Kappa Phi if we could play one of their parties, and they said yes. They were hosting "The Meatball"--an annual day-long shitfest during Greek Week normally hosted by KDR, but they were on double secret probation. The party was on Friday, April 7--a little less than two weeks away. Of course, we had yet to rehearse as a full band and had no songs in our repertoire.
Naturally, I wrote up a ridiculous two-hour setlist with 30 songs in the set.
With 12 days until the gig, we began rehearsing. Since we couldn't exactly host a full-band rehearsal in our apartment building, I decided to break into Delta Sig, my fraternity, which was unoccupied that semester due to our hazing indictment and consequent eviction. Scaling the front wall of the house, I was able to hop onto the portico, where I used a step ladder to reach a 3rd floor bedroom window, open it, and walk downstairs to open the back door. We set up our gear in the basement and played as loud as we wanted. It was an awesome feeling to be playing with other musicians--to be playing in a band, with a tangible mission: play at a party.
A sketch of Delta Sig--"The Pink Elephant"--where the first full-band rehearsals took place.
And then the day was upon us. At 3:08 AM on the day/morning of the gig, I emailed this official setlist to the members of the band:
We had rehearsed as a full band three or four times at most. Our singer, Jeff, hadn't memorized even 15% of the lyrics to the songs. Our drummer, Mike, struggled to keep a basic 4/4 rock beat. We were not tight, but, God damn it, we were doing this fucking gig!
The morning of the gig is a blur. I can't remember if I went to my classes or not...I don't think so. I probably woke up around noon. After loading Zac and Tom's cars with our gear and driving one block from Delta Sig to Pi Kapp, we arrived at a fenced-in parking lot in back of the Pi Crap house to find 500 wasted, underaged Penn Staters and a sea of crushed Natty Light cans. It was about 3:00 PM. There was a stage set up outside and a band was playing "My Own Worst Enemy" by Lit.
We brought our gear inside and placed it against a wall in the back of the basement, where it would only be in probable and not definite danger of frat destruction. We were then led upstairs to a bedroom on the second floor, which served as our green room, and were given a case of Natural Light. We were not being paid for the gig, but the $12 case of watery beer was compensation enough. I remember vividly sitting in the room with Tom, drinking a beer, feeling nervous as hell. Tom was cool and collected and called me a pussy for being nervous.
We were supposed to start playing at 4:30, but Pi Kapp's house band decided they wanted to play during that time before everyone was totally blacked out, passed out, or gone from the day party. Toward the end of their set, the cops showed up and threatened to shut the party down if another song was played outside. It was unclear whether or not we would play at all.
Finally, at about 7 o'clock, we began our set. I was so nervous I could barely move my fingers on the guitar. The basement was packed with about 75-100 drunk college students, mostly dudes, and they were rowdy. We opened with a bluesy rock song off John Mayer's trio album Try!--"Who Did You Think I Was?" It was loud. None of us wore any hearing protection. I'm fairly certain I have permanent hearing damage from having my head right next to the PA speaker for the entire gig.
The morning of the gig is a blur. I can't remember if I went to my classes or not...I don't think so. I probably woke up around noon. After loading Zac and Tom's cars with our gear and driving one block from Delta Sig to Pi Kapp, we arrived at a fenced-in parking lot in back of the Pi Crap house to find 500 wasted, underaged Penn Staters and a sea of crushed Natty Light cans. It was about 3:00 PM. There was a stage set up outside and a band was playing "My Own Worst Enemy" by Lit.
We brought our gear inside and placed it against a wall in the back of the basement, where it would only be in probable and not definite danger of frat destruction. We were then led upstairs to a bedroom on the second floor, which served as our green room, and were given a case of Natural Light. We were not being paid for the gig, but the $12 case of watery beer was compensation enough. I remember vividly sitting in the room with Tom, drinking a beer, feeling nervous as hell. Tom was cool and collected and called me a pussy for being nervous.
We were supposed to start playing at 4:30, but Pi Kapp's house band decided they wanted to play during that time before everyone was totally blacked out, passed out, or gone from the day party. Toward the end of their set, the cops showed up and threatened to shut the party down if another song was played outside. It was unclear whether or not we would play at all.
Finally, at about 7 o'clock, we began our set. I was so nervous I could barely move my fingers on the guitar. The basement was packed with about 75-100 drunk college students, mostly dudes, and they were rowdy. We opened with a bluesy rock song off John Mayer's trio album Try!--"Who Did You Think I Was?" It was loud. None of us wore any hearing protection. I'm fairly certain I have permanent hearing damage from having my head right next to the PA speaker for the entire gig.
First gig.
No one recognized the song, but the crowd was amenable nonetheless. Our next song--"The Distance" by Cake--was another atypical frat cover, but one that all children of the 90s would recognize. We played it well, and people dug it.
What happened next brought the house down.
A few days before the gig, I had approached two older guys in my frat about rapping during our set. They were both known for freestyle battling regularly, and I thought they might enjoy it. They were all for it.
So, three songs into the set, we brought out "Slick Rick" Steinberg and Chris "Diddy" Perrini to rap over Hate It Or Love It, Still D.R.E., and Mo Money Mo Problems. It was an unexpected and welcome surprise for the audience. (Nothing is cooler than when you hear the beginning of "Still D.R.E.") They loved it.
What happened next brought the house down.
A few days before the gig, I had approached two older guys in my frat about rapping during our set. They were both known for freestyle battling regularly, and I thought they might enjoy it. They were all for it.
So, three songs into the set, we brought out "Slick Rick" Steinberg and Chris "Diddy" Perrini to rap over Hate It Or Love It, Still D.R.E., and Mo Money Mo Problems. It was an unexpected and welcome surprise for the audience. (Nothing is cooler than when you hear the beginning of "Still D.R.E.") They loved it.
Chris "Diddy" Perrini and "Slick Rick" Steinberg performing during "Mo Money Mo Problems"
But it was all downhill after that.
Our playing got sloppier and sloppier, and by the end of our set there were only a handful of people--literally six people, tops--still standing, and none of them were coherent.
Because no one was watching us play anymore, I said, "Fuck it," and instructed the band to just "jam." I started with the chromatic ascending intro to the jam of Phish's "You Enjoy Myself," which Zac and Tom were familiar with, and assumed Mike would be able to pick up with the relatively straight-ahead 4/4 rock beat. But he could not. Frustrated, I yelled at him, on beat, "One! Two! Three! Four!" Offended, he stopped playing, got up from the drums, and started walking away.
"What the fuck are you doing!?" I yelled. "Get back there!"
He complied, and the jam whimpered away in what could best be described as a "slow death." There was no triumphant final crash cymbal, power chord ending to this show. We literally just started playing quieter and quieter before stopping completely, looking at each other, and nodding in unspoken agreement that the show was over. No one was even around to see it, so it didn't really matter.
After a strong start, the rest of our performance was awful (though we did receive a few drunken reassurances that, "You guys are awesome!")
The actual setlist ended up looking like this:
Who Did You Think I Was?, The Distance, Hate It Or Love It > Still D.R.E. > Hate It Or Love It > Pure Imagination, Mo Money Mo Problems, Love Generation > Send Me On My Way, Afternoon Delight (a cappella), Wrong Way, Scotty Doesn’t Know, Baba O’Riley, Mary Jane’s Last Dance, No Woman No Cry, Better Man, Zombie Nation, Don’t Stop Believin’, Ants Marching, Rock ‘n Roll Part 2 > American Girl, Shout, You Enjoy Myself jam
Packing up our gear, no one said a word. It's funny now in hindsight, because the gig didn't mean anything, had no consequences whatsoever whether we played the best set of music ever or were the shittiest band on the planet, and it was just a fun frat gig.
But to us, at the time, it meant everything, and it did not live up to our expectations.
We dropped Mike off back at his dorm, and as he was getting out of the car, as if sensing my disapproval of his performance, meekly said, "Well, let me know about the next rehearsal."
I'm not sure where Jeff disappeared to, but when we got back to Beaver Hill, Zac, Tom and I had a pow wow in the back parking lot.
"That was awful," declared Tom emphatically.
"So bad," concurred Zac.
"Mike's out," I stated definitively.
"Definitely," agreed Tom.
"Yup," seconded Zac.
"How 'bout Jeff?"
"I don't know," said Tom. "I mean...he could be good if he just remembered lyrics."
"Yeah, I'd be willing to give him another chance," offered Zac.
"Okay, so we need a new drummer."
"The drummer from my metal band, Jason, is really good," said Tom. "He'd probably do it."
"Okay, so let's get Jason on board, and we'll rehearse this weekend. Good?"
"Good."
"Yup."
And that's how me, Zac and Tom played our first gig together. It was the beginning of a gratifying final two years to my college experience, laying the foundation for one of the more meaningful undertakings in my life.
-Chris, 9/14/13
Our playing got sloppier and sloppier, and by the end of our set there were only a handful of people--literally six people, tops--still standing, and none of them were coherent.
Because no one was watching us play anymore, I said, "Fuck it," and instructed the band to just "jam." I started with the chromatic ascending intro to the jam of Phish's "You Enjoy Myself," which Zac and Tom were familiar with, and assumed Mike would be able to pick up with the relatively straight-ahead 4/4 rock beat. But he could not. Frustrated, I yelled at him, on beat, "One! Two! Three! Four!" Offended, he stopped playing, got up from the drums, and started walking away.
"What the fuck are you doing!?" I yelled. "Get back there!"
He complied, and the jam whimpered away in what could best be described as a "slow death." There was no triumphant final crash cymbal, power chord ending to this show. We literally just started playing quieter and quieter before stopping completely, looking at each other, and nodding in unspoken agreement that the show was over. No one was even around to see it, so it didn't really matter.
After a strong start, the rest of our performance was awful (though we did receive a few drunken reassurances that, "You guys are awesome!")
The actual setlist ended up looking like this:
Who Did You Think I Was?, The Distance, Hate It Or Love It > Still D.R.E. > Hate It Or Love It > Pure Imagination, Mo Money Mo Problems, Love Generation > Send Me On My Way, Afternoon Delight (a cappella), Wrong Way, Scotty Doesn’t Know, Baba O’Riley, Mary Jane’s Last Dance, No Woman No Cry, Better Man, Zombie Nation, Don’t Stop Believin’, Ants Marching, Rock ‘n Roll Part 2 > American Girl, Shout, You Enjoy Myself jam
Packing up our gear, no one said a word. It's funny now in hindsight, because the gig didn't mean anything, had no consequences whatsoever whether we played the best set of music ever or were the shittiest band on the planet, and it was just a fun frat gig.
But to us, at the time, it meant everything, and it did not live up to our expectations.
We dropped Mike off back at his dorm, and as he was getting out of the car, as if sensing my disapproval of his performance, meekly said, "Well, let me know about the next rehearsal."
I'm not sure where Jeff disappeared to, but when we got back to Beaver Hill, Zac, Tom and I had a pow wow in the back parking lot.
"That was awful," declared Tom emphatically.
"So bad," concurred Zac.
"Mike's out," I stated definitively.
"Definitely," agreed Tom.
"Yup," seconded Zac.
"How 'bout Jeff?"
"I don't know," said Tom. "I mean...he could be good if he just remembered lyrics."
"Yeah, I'd be willing to give him another chance," offered Zac.
"Okay, so we need a new drummer."
"The drummer from my metal band, Jason, is really good," said Tom. "He'd probably do it."
"Okay, so let's get Jason on board, and we'll rehearse this weekend. Good?"
"Good."
"Yup."
And that's how me, Zac and Tom played our first gig together. It was the beginning of a gratifying final two years to my college experience, laying the foundation for one of the more meaningful undertakings in my life.
-Chris, 9/14/13
Prague, February 2007.
